


friction on the ice

by sakura_aesthetic (orphan_account)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Locker Room Sex, M/M, Quadruple Flip, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-02-09 16:04:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12891549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sakura_aesthetic
Summary: As quickly as Victor opens his mouth to retort, he closes it. His blood is boiling, spewing fire but as his icy-blue eyes examine Yuri's flushed cheeks, the tears that cling relentlessly to his lashes, the erratic breaths visible in the air despite the heated argument, he finally catches on—the quadruple flip is Victor's jump.





	friction on the ice

From the far side of the rink, Victor watches as Yuri takes a nosedive, collapsing on the ice for the seventeenth time in the span of an hour. The silver-haired man sighs in disappointment. If Yuri wants to win, he has to land these quads—his short program is depending on it. For a split second, Victor mentally slaps himself for choreographing such a complex and difficult series of skating maneuvers; perhaps the quadruple toe loop followed by the combination spin are too close together.

 _No, that is not the problem_ , Victor concludes as his eyes train on Yuri, the boy panting heavily whilst standing. It has nothing to do with his stamina, nor does it have anything to do with the challenging sequence of quads. Simply put, Yuri is distracted by something, or rather, _someone_. Once Victor acknowledges this notion, it is impossible _not_ to notice the way Yuri keeps glancing in his general direction. What’s more, whenever Victor attempts to gain his pupil’s attention, Yuri avoids his gaze.

The senior skater, despite usually being calm and collected, feels his heart clench—Victor appears to be hindering Yuri’s concentration. Given any other circumstance, the Russian would be elated at this development; however, with next season’s skating exhibition coming up in just under three weeks, the duo can’t afford any distractions.

“Yuri!” Victor shouts over the rink, “come and take a break!”

The younger boy ignores his coach and shoves his toe pick against the ice, sending him gliding across the slick surface. Hasetsu Ice Castle echoes with the sound of metal scraping against ice, Yuri’s breath accelerating as he launches himself into his eighteenth quadruple salchow of the day. Miraculously, he lands it perfectly. At the sound of the skates clinking against the ice, Victor’s chest tightens, knowing the next jump is the source of Yuri’s frustration.

“Hang in there! Bend your knees... tuck in your arms!”

And then he’s flying, spiraling in the air; Victor holds his breath, waiting for Yuri to touch down on the outside edge of his opposite foot. Halfway through flight, however, Victor notices how his arms are out of position, how his skates are off-center—he already knows what’s coming and shuts his eyes to keep from watching the disaster that is about to unfurl. At the clink of the metal touching the ice, what follows is the undeniable sound of the boy collapsing, Yuri grunting in pain as he careens across the ground.

“Yuuurrriiii… enough already… your body is exhausted,” Victor sighs while hunched over the rink board, resting his head against his hand.

By this point, he can’t endure another round of Yuri attempting the quadruple flip. Especially since he’s been practicing all week to the point of overexertion.

Over the course of the past seven days, Victor has witnessed the gradual but imminent breakdown of the younger boy. At first, Victor denied it, figuring that because Yuri hadn’t landed his jumps all practice, he was just going through the motions. That preconceived notion, however, changed after one of the practice sessions.

The older had stopped by the locker room, wanting to double-check with Yuri regarding their dinner plans for the evening. Upon entering the room likened to a closet, he was surprised to find the space vacant, especially when Yuri’s things were left out in the open. Puzzled, Victor had wandered inside, then came to notice the reverberation of water coming from the showers laced with muffled sobbing. With caution, the older man entered the thick fog of steam leading to the only cubicle occupied, and then stole a glance around the wall. What he found was absolutely heartbreaking: Yuri standing—no, _shaking_ under the showerhead, swollen, discolored bruises blemishing Yuri’s otherwise flawless skin, poignant blisters and lacerations marring his pupil’s feet. Falling on the hard ice had obviously taken a toll on his mental _and_ physical health. Moreover, besides the obviously chafed and egregious condition of Yuri’s body, the boy was biting his knuckles to keep from crying aloud as if he were afraid someone would hear.

“Such a failure… I’m sorry… I-I’m sorry.”

Victor had been desperate to gather him in his arms, hold him and reassure him that of all things, he was most definitely _not_ a failure. Yuri, in the older man’s eyes, was the furthest thing from it. To be able to return for another season of skating after losing, after remaining off the grid for an entire year, was certainly impressive and of course, was no ordinary feat—Victor doubted that if he himself were in Yuri’s position, he would have made a comeback.

Despite wanting to impart his own opinions on the matter, Victor also knew he was intruding upon a more private affair; thus, he had simply backed away, turned for the exit, and trudged out of Hasetsu Ice Castle. Leaving Yuri alone to himself and his misery, by far, was the hardest thing he had ever done.

In the days following the one-sided encounter, Victor had tried to reason with Yuri to lower the difficulty of the program. Cutting out the quadruple flip and adding a longer step sequence would not detract from the audience’s attention, if anything, they would probably be more enthralled by Yuri’s ability to deliver a solid, stunning performance. In spite of this logic, Yuri rejected the proposal and abandoned his coach, launching himself into a series of loops for good measure.

Since then, the only time Yuri meets Victor’s gaze is when he falls on his ass, bones cracking against the rink, sending a menacing glare in warning not to say a word.

In the twenty feet that span between skater and coach, Victor doesn’t need Yuri to explicitly say what he’s thinking— _don’t fucking underestimate me again_. And in response, all Yuri does is stand, tremors, bleeding gashes, blistered feet, and all.

The quadruple flip apparently means more to Yuri than his own fucking sanity.

_What an idiot._

“Just one more time,” Yuri grits through his teeth, forcing himself to stand.

By now, his legs are trembling, sweat beading along his hairline. Victor pinches the bridge of his nose—this boy has too much determination for his own good. At this rate, he knows that Yuri is only going to injure himself to the point of breaking.

Before Yuri musters enough strength to skate away, Victor steps on the ice, marching toward his trainee.

“You’ve practiced more than enough today,” he says gently, reaching out to grip Yuri’s shoulder.

Much to his chagrin, the man shakes it off then turns and glides away.

“I need to nail this jump,” Yuri argues, keeping his eyes trained on the ground.

_Why is this man so fucking stubborn?_

Victor inwardly groans and follows after Yuri, grateful for lacing up a pair of skates before entering the rink.

“What you _need_ is a nice, warm bath and a good night’s sleep.”

“If you want to go home, then just _go_ … don’t wait up on my account.”

Victor is taken aback by Yuri’s harsh tone. Has he been a pain in the ass all week? Yes. Has he been irrational for the past few days? You can bet on that. But has he been cruel, taking his frustration out on his coach _personally_ ? Oh, hell no. This is _not_ the Yuri Katsuki that Victor knows. The man he knows is gentle, is forgiving. The man he knows enthralls his audience when he skates, when he stands upon the podium adorning a wide smile. The man he knows is confident, is beautiful. The man Victor knows… is the man he loves… unconditionally.

“Yuri… I—”

“Victor, just leave already!” Yuri shouts, balling his hands into fists, his voice resonating in the suddenly cramped, tight space of the rink.

At his outburst, Yuri cups his hand over his mouth, silencing a surprised gasp. And just like that, the good-natured, shy Yuri resurfaces. The mortified boy whips around, his face apologetic as he searches the older’s face for any hint of reproach. Victor wants to be angry. He wants Yuri to know how much it hurts to be neglected. He wants Yuri to understand how much it fucking burns to be turned astray, to be thrown away. To be considered as merely a pillar of Yuri’s skating career and nothing more is the worst possible feeling Victor has ever endured. That to be shunned and treated as _only_ a coach, to be sidelined from whatever battle Yuri is fighting alone is intolerable. But as Victor finds himself swallowed by a pair of solemn, doe brown eyes, all resentment felt toward his skater disperses.

“V-Victor… I-I’m sorry…” Yuri whispers, his voice cracking.

Victor’s heart tightens once more; seeing Yuri upset is the hardest thing to bear.

“I really didn’t mean to… I’m just frustrated.” Yuri’s hushed words are strained with irritation. Victor feels the urge to clasp his hands over the younger’s twiddling fingers in an effort to soothe the anxiety-ridden boy, but he refrains, unsure of how Yuri will react.

“I just can’t land this jump… and I know the exhibition is only a few weeks away.” Yuri bites his lip before continuing. “The last thing I want to do is let you down… _again_.”

Victor’s expression remains stoic—this isn’t the first time Yuri has mentioned the issue. And like every other time, Victor simply sighs, crossing his arms over his chest in exasperation. How many times must he explain to his pupil that he could never, _ever_ in a million years let him down?

“Yuri… the only thing letting me down right now is your attitude.

“If I can’t land this jump then I can’t win!” Yuri argues, face contorted in outrage.

“You can win regardless… the jumps aren’t everything,” Victor fires back, seething at Yuri’s refusal to accept the obvious truth, that like Victor, he is one hell of a skater, raw talent ebbing every twist, every spin, every glide— _how is he so fucking blind?_

“The quadruple flip means everything to _me_ … I have to land it!”

As quickly as Victor opens his mouth to retort, he closes it. His blood is boiling, spewing fire, but as his icy-blue eyes examine Yuri’s flushed cheeks, the tears that cling relentlessly to his lashes, the erratic breaths visible in the air despite the heated argument, he finally catches on.

The quadruple flip is Victor’s jump.

Suddenly, everything clicks into place: the posters of young, sensual Victor decorating Yuri’s bedroom walls; the traditional shrine dedicated to Vic-chan; the composition of the music _Yuri On Ice_ , wherein Victor’s grand debut in Yuri’s life is expressed through flourishing piano chords, the hallmark of the piece’s movement; the ending of Yuri’s free dance, his slender hand outstretched for only one person to hold.

Completing a quadruple flip—Victor’s signature move—at the end of his program would come full circle, Yuri’s love story ending with the single most important person to ever skate into his life: Victor himself.

_All of these antics because of a fucking jump—the quadruple flip can burn in hell for all I care._

With this decision, a primal growl rips from Victor’s mouth as he latches onto Yuri’s lips, catching the younger boy completely off guard.

“V-Victor?” he gasps, quickly losing his footing on the ice but managing to catch himself on Victor’s coat sleeves. “What are you—”

The older man silences Yuri’s questioning pleas with a kiss. A single, aggressive kiss that leaves even Victor—the one who initiates the contact in the first place—shaken. But as the silver-haired man tastes Yuri Katsuki’s mouth, he finds that it’s sweeter than anything else he has ever tasted, and within a mere second, he is addicted. Licking his lips, Victor pries Yuri’s lips open wide, breathing him in.

Opening his eyes, he is stunned to find Yuri’s still wide open, taken aback by their sudden intimacy. In spite of his expression, however, Victor is aware of the way Yuri’s hands are grasping the cuffs of his sleeves, trying to close the proximity between them. As the space separating the duo narrows, Victor can feel the thrumming of Yuri’s heartbeat—and how it is completely and utterly in sync with his own, pounding, eloping, spreading a fierce blush across Yuri’s cheeks.

Unable to stop himself, Victor reaches out to caress his soft temple, cupping his face and beaming at the boy standing beneath him. Yuri’s warm breath fans across Victor’s lips, shivers sent crawling down his spine in anticipation.

_God, I want him. I want him so bad…_

With his lust-laden gaze aimed solely at the man standing above him, Yuri reciprocates the older’s tentative touch by forcing Victor’s lips upon his, roughly entangling his slim fingers into silver-pleated locks. He moans into Victor’s mouth, tracing the outer edges with tantalizing need, his tongue practically begging for entrance. Victor chuckles at Yuri’s sudden straightforwardness, but obliges with no delay, sucking Yuri’s mouth dry.

“Ngh… V-Vi… ctor…” Yuri moans, yanking on the older’s hair, wanting more.

“Put your legs… around me,” Victor groans in response, winding his arms around Yuri’s waist.

Without hesitation, the younger boy hoists himself into Victor’s arms, wrapping his legs around the man’s hips, skates scratching at Victor’s calves. Of course, Victor doesn’t care, for he is holding the man he loves in his arms, kissing him senseless, pressing his pelvis against him bearing no shame.

“More…” Yuri whimpers, rocking his hips against the man, grinding an evident arousal against Victor’s groin.

Knowing he won’t be able to support both their weights whilst on the ice, Victor leads them across the rink until Yuri’s back slams into the rink wall. The jarring motion sends Yuri’s lids fluttering open, his chocolate, brown eyes dilated and focused entirely on the man hovering over him.

“I’ll give you more,” Victor purrs, lowering his head to suck the junction between Yuri’s neck and shoulder.

Yuri shudders at the sensation, squirming beneath the older man, moaning as Victor’s tongue finds a sensitive spot and treats it as a target, keeping his attention trained only on the love bite now appearing just above Yuri’s collarbone. Then, with his teeth, Victor nips at the soft flesh, making Yuri buck his hips in response. At the grazing of his arousal, Victor himself cannot stand the distance between their growing erections any longer, shoving himself completely against Yuri, their members separated by a mere four layers of clothing. To keep their balance on the slippery surface, Victor pins Yuri’s hands against the wall, grinding against him with reckless abandon, the ravenette left breathless. The same can be said about Victor, the older man panting in desperate, aching need to be closer, to be touching more of Yuri.

“Yuri… more…” His moans vibrate against Yuri’s skin, their pelvises rubbing hazardously against one another in increasing speed.

At the sound of his name rolling off Victor’s tongue, Yuri shivers. Continuing his ministrations, Victor maneuvers his free hands to slide along Yuri’s body, finding his pert nipples through the thin cotton of his shirt. Tweaking the nubs between his fingers, Yuri caves, wrapping his legs even tighter around Victor’s waist. Smirking, the older’s tongue roams from Yuri’s neck to his chest, tongue slipping between his lips and revolving around Yuri’s nipples, making the younger boy cry out. What Victor will give to hear that sound again. It then becomes his objective to reduce Yuri to a quivering mess, to hear him scream in pleasure, to touch every muscular plane affixed to his lover’s body and make it his.

“Vic… tor… I n-need you.”

Victor doesn’t need to be told twice.

With his mouth still sucking Yuri’s chest, his free hands travel downward to massage Yuri’s ass cheeks, then hoists him off the wall, keeping their bodies as close together as physically possible while skating off the rink. Yuri moans and tugs at Victor’s silver hair, rubbing his arousal against Victor’s, locking his arms around his lover’s head; Victor is observant, noticing how all of these actions manifest themselves into two words: touch me.

“Yuri Katsuki… whatever shall I do with you?”

With the ceasing of the torment unto Yuri’s chest, the younger boy finds the strength to lean down and kiss Victor hungrily on the mouth, tongue slipping through swollen, pink lips. Keeping his eyes solely focused on Yuri, his pelvis creating delicious friction between the duo, it takes several minutes for Victor to find the men’s locker room, his hand wildly waving around until he finally wrenches the door open.

The moment the door shuts behind them, Yuri unhinges his legs from behind Victor’s back and drops to the floor. Naturally, with his skates, Yuri’s balance deems useless as he nearly topples over, only to be saved by Victor’s quick reflexes to grasp his wrists, securing him in his embrace. Upon his two steady feet, however, Victor takes full advantage of the situation and shoves the boy against the nearest row of lockers, pinning his arms above him.

Placing a wet kiss on his mouth, the older man can no longer suppress his dire need to touch Yuri’s bare skin, and as a result, reaches down to find the hem of his shirt and tugs it off and over his head. The moment Yuri’s smooth but scathed skin is revealed, Victor’s mouth replaces the rough feeling of fabric, sucking Yuri’s nipples until they throb in his mouth.

“Nnghhh, can’t… can’t wait much longer…” Yuri whimpers, rooting his fingers deep within the silver locks of the older man.

Agreeing entirely with this statement, Victor—without pulling away from his lover—yanks off his coat, then disposes of his cashmere scarf on the floor.

For Yuri, however, apparently it isn’t enough.

In earnest, Yuri’s hands reach for the waistband of Victor’s pants, unfastening the buckle and unlooping his belt, and then shrugs them down his muscular legs.

“Oh so eager, are we?”

“Shut up…” Yuri mumbles.

As an even more prominent blush coats Yuri’s cheeks, Victor recognizes this as his chance to advance. Gripping Yuri’s hips, the older man hauls him away from the locker and leads him toward the closest bench, grinding into the boy’s pelvis with aching need. Shuffling backward, Yuri releases a startled gasp as his knees come into contact with the wood, to which he falls on his ass. Before he can stand, Victor places another slopping, wet kiss on his lips and coaxes him to lie down.

“Victor… what are you—”

The older man cuts him off with yet again, another passionate kiss, slanting his jaw and angling Yuri’s head to deepen the connection. Keeping their mouths occupied, Victor sits beside Yuri on the bench, his fingers trailing down the younger’s chest, following through the depression of his belly-button, then brushes against the tent beneath his skating tights.

“Victor!” Yuri gasps, eyes wide at the fleeting touch of Victor’s careful fingers, his pelvis automatically thrusting into the older’s hand.

Taking that as his cue, the silver-haired man smiles and cranes his neck downward to kiss the prominent erection poised between Yuri’s thick thighs, feeling the boy jolt in excitement. As he looks up to meet his favorite pair of brown eyes, he finds them crazed, half-begging, half-scared of what is to come.

“Can I keep going?” Victor murmurs, knowing that this is Yuri’s first time with _anybody_ , let alone a man.

Yuri nods while whimpering, body squirming as Victor’s hands come to rest at the base of his throbbing arousal. Diligently, the older man dips his fingers beneath the folds of the tights, seamlessly pulling them down Yuri’s strong legs along with his boxers. Under the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, Yuri’s member stands at full attention, his arousal slick with viscous liquid.

At the sight of himself, Yuri blushes profusely once more, shying away from Victor’s expecting gaze and covers his face with his arms.

_Still so damn cute._

Laughing, Victor leans over the younger boy and peels his sinewy arms away from his face, revealing an embarrassed Yuri.

“You know… it’s okay to be turned on, Yuri…” Victor whispers, breath ghosting over the shell of his ear, to which Yuri trembles in anticipation.

As he pulls away, Victor, still smiling, reaches for one of Yuri’s hands, then directs his hand to Victor’s arousal, encouraging the younger boy to stroke it through his boxers.

“See… I’m hard too…” Victor groans, keeping his eyes trained on Yuri’s. “I need you, Yuri Katsuki.”

Experimentally, the ravenette swallows thickly, and then caresses Victor’s length, fingers prodding at his tip through the fabric. In response, Victor’s hips jolt forward, pressing even further against Yuri’s awaiting hands, his head falling forward in absolute rapture. Waves of pleasure emanate from the older man, silver hair brushing along Yuri’s nose whilst trying to support his suspended weight over the younger, not willing to break the contact. But with every passing second in which Yuri’s hands are massaging him, cupping him, teasing him, Victor knows he is at a loss.

_I need him… now._

“Do you want to do this all the way?” Victor grits through his teeth, praying to God that whatever comes out of Yuri’s mouth resembles a _yes_.

He doesn’t think he’ll survive if they stop now.

Yuri responds by pressing a beautiful, soul-rendering kiss to Victor’s mouth.

_Good enough for me._

With no further hesitation, Victor slides his soiled boxers down his legs, freeing his member to the chilled air of the locker room. The look on Yuri’s face is priceless—absolute surprise, traces of concern, and _adoration_? Victor can’t be positive. All he does know, however, is that of all the emotions that fly across Yuri’s face, _fear_ is not one of them. A relief.

And then, disappointment.

_Shit…_

The dismay must be obvious, as Yuri looks on at the older in worry.

“Something wrong?” he questions.

“Yeah…” Victor begins, then rubs the back of his neck, “we don’t have any lubricant.”

To be completely honest, the last thing Victor expects is for the boy beneath him to simply smile and say, “I don’t really mind… I want to do this with you regardless.”

“There is no way in hell… I’m not ripping you apart for your first time.”

At this, he notices Yuri gulp but the small smile never leaves his face. He isn’t giving in; he wants this as much as Victor does.

_So fucking innocent… this boy will be the death of me for sure._

“Finnneee!” Victor drawls out before engulfing his fingers in his own mouth, tongue swirling around his digits, “just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With saliva coating his fingers, Victor releases them from his mouth with a pop, and then slides his hand down to cup Yuri’s ass.

“Relax, Yuri… this may hurt a bit.”

At this, the younger boy breathes in shakily, his nervousness undisguisable. To ease the worry, Victor bends over to kiss him once more, reaffirming the intimate atmosphere as the older slowly enters with his slick fingers, easing inside and stretching Yuri.

“Gahhh, Victor!” the younger shouts in surprise, his body immediately readjusting itself to the foreign and unknown sensations.

“Shh… just relax yourself… it will hurt a lot less.”

Yuri does as Victor heeds, exhaling deeply, his breath reverberating loudly in the enclosed locker space. Despite the obvious discomfort leeching into Yuri’s facial expressions, it doesn’t appear to take long for the pain to fade away, a blissful, euphoric smile eventually gracing the younger’s swollen lips.

“Good… you’re ready,” Victor hums, then positions himself at Yuri’s entrance. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Gently, carefully, Victor guides his thick arousal into Yuri, allowing the younger’s walls to adjust to him. By the time Victor is halfway in, Yuri is trembling in his arms, the pain most likely overriding his system. Guilt floods Victor the moment he notices Yuri blinking back tears, his cries silenced by biting his knuckles.

Shifting his arms above Yuri’s head, Victor bends over to kiss the tears away, then intertwines their hands.

“Are you okay?”

Yuri nods; Victor can see that he’s telling the truth.

Then, with every ounce of love Victor possesses for the boy writhing beneath him, he leaves a wholehearted kiss on Yuri’s lips, hoping to convey the absolute happiness through that single peck. Yuri involuntary begs for more with his mouth, tugging on Victor’s lips as they embrace one another, Victor thrusting achingly slow into Yuri, eliciting a string of moans from both skaters.

“More…” Yuri groans.

And so Victor gives more, pulling out completely before pistoning his hips forward once more, leaving Yuri in a state of uncanny pleasure.

“More… more… more…”

Thus, Victor revolves his hips over and over again, barreling into Yuri, swallowing his moans, tasting his sweetness, watching as the boy in his arms summits and peaks, then falls from heaven, his gaze locked only on Victor in such a way that can only be described as love.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while ago on FanFiction.net but figured it was worth sharing on here. Let me know what you think!


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